


The Face That You Have to Face

by anodyneer



Category: White Collar
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fever, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, Mutual Masturbation, Sensation Play, Senses, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Singing, Touching, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/pseuds/anodyneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Neal is dosed with a drug that increases tactile and sexual sensations, Peter struggles with where to draw the line between helping him and adhering to his own morals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Face That You Have to Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/gifts).



> Written for the [Get Well Fest](http://whitecollarhc.livejournal.com/213836.html) for the amazing [kanarek13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13). Lots of hugs and positive energy coming your way, my friend! :) Title is from "The Pretender" by Foo Fighters.
> 
> Neal sings several songs in this fic; song titles, in order of appearance - and even a YouTube playlist - are in the notes at the end. Also, drugs are dangerous, and the definition of "sex" for the purposes of this fic is the standard one - intercourse involving penetration (vaginal, anal, or oral). There isn't any here. That said, there are non-explicit descriptions of frottage, mutual masturbation, and sensual/sexual touching. Though there are NO actual consent issues in this fic, and the characters are in an established relationship, one of them is drugged here (with a drug that doesn't affect ability to give consent), so it may be mildly dubcon to some.
> 
> There is now gorgeous cover art for this fic (a birthday gift for me) from my talented friend, kanarek13, for whom the story was originally written! <3

* * *

Peter Burke considered himself a pretty self-possessed man. He’d been taken at gunpoint and held against his will, had stared down the barrel of a gun more than once, made it through the abduction of his wife – and later, the abduction of the CI who would eventually become his lover. He’d even spent six weeks in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and then had to deal with the mental and emotional fallout long after his release.

All of these things had taken a toll on him, but he’d been able to pull himself together, work through them on his own terms, and come out the other side a stronger man because of it. Very few things in life unnerved him.

Neal Caffrey under the influence of drugs - _that_ unnerved him.

He’d seen Neal drunk before, and that wasn’t a big deal, as even Peter himself enjoyed the occasional foray into territory beyond his usual nightly beers. On the other hand, he’d only seen Neal drugged a few times, and though he’d manned up and Agent Burke’d his way through those situations, he’d been rattled by each one of them.

In everyday life, Neal was always the picture of strict control and self-discipline. Most of those around him weren’t cognizant of it because he distracted them with a charming smile, a cavalier strut, a devil-may-care attitude, and a mental Rolodex full of snappy comebacks.

On the surface, he was lovably cocky, but Peter knew Neal like no one else knew him. He knew the Neal that could get out of almost any situation because he was always in control, always thinking five steps ahead of everyone else, and instinctively seemed to know exactly how any given situation would change if a particular variable was introduced.

Even when he drank, Neal always seemed to retain at least some of that control. Drugs were a whole different animal. Peter had witnessed a drugged Neal singing, listened to his frantic confessions of crimes stretching all the way back to his childhood, and even shared a moment with him that was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

_You’re the only person in my life I trust._

“Peterrrrrrrrrr.” 

It was that same voice, currently seeming to take great pleasure in finding creative new ways to say his name, which brought him back to the present. He looked down at Neal in the hospital bed, then ran a hand over his face.

“Peterrrrrrrr.” Neal gave him a loopy grin, and his fingers reached out to drift down Peter’s forearm. Peter pulled away quickly and tried not to blush. “You’re adorable when you’re worried.”

“Who said I’m worried?” Peter mumbled, shifting just in time to keep Neal’s roving fingers from brushing over his groin. Downright unnerving. Where in the everloving _fuck_ was the doctor?

“You’re worried because you love me.” Neal smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Peter. I love you, too. Like, a _lot_. I love you more than…love.”

“Shh. I know.” Peter looked away, focusing instead on the nurse who had just walked into the bay they occupied. He hated seeing Neal like this, and he hated not knowing exactly what was causing it.

He hated not knowing how to fix it.

“Oh, hello.” Neal gave the nurse his best high-wattage grin, then shifted on the bed and reached for Peter’s hand. “Wait, nevermind. You were here before. You remember Peter, right? Isn’t he adorable when he’s worried?”

She smiled and flashed Peter a sympathetic look. “I’d say so,” she said to Neal before looking back down at the computer on the rolling cart in front of her.

“See, Peter, she thinks so, too.” Neal’s thumb drifted down over Peter’s, rubbing slowly in a rhythm that was all too familiar to the older man. “Hmm. This place is way too drab. Needs some Pollock.” He glanced up at Peter and made a scissoring motion with the first two fingers of his free hand. “It’s more sterile than you are.”

Peter cringed, now certain that the blush was creeping up his neck. “That’s enough, Neal.” He tried to pull his hand free, but Neal’s fingers clamped tightly around his own.

“Okay, I’ll talk to her instead.” Neal’s head lolled in the direction of the nurse. “I’ll bet you didn’t know Peter’s hung like a horse.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Neal!” Peter yanked his hand free and pointed a finger at the younger man, trying to ignore the way it shook. “That’s it. Not. Another. Word.” The nurse tactfully wheeled the computer out of the bay, and Peter muttered an apology to her on her way by. He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple, almost certain that he’d find his entire head engulfed in the flames of humiliation.

“Peter?” This time, Neal’s voice was soft, an apparent moment of lucidity breaking through the hold the drugs had on him. When Peter wouldn’t look at him and once again dodged his grasp, Neal let out a gusty sigh. “Why?”

Peter couldn’t ignore the heartbroken tone, so different from the happy Neal that had emerged when the drugs took effect. “Why what?” He laid a hand on Neal’s shoulder and looked up.

The younger man’s blue eyes were wide, shining with sudden tears. “Why are you mad at me?”

_Shit._

Peter glanced at the curtain, at the lack of privacy, then leaned over the bed. “I’m not mad at you, Neal,” he said softly. 

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.” His fingers itched to trail down the side of Neal’s face, to stroke feathery lines over his arm, but he fought hard against the urge. It was probably good that he did, too, as the doctor chose that moment to make his appearance. Peter straightened up and let his hand slip from Neal’s shoulder.

The doctor introduced himself to both of them, and to his credit, he didn’t raise an eyebrow when Peter said he was Neal’s “partner.” Such a loaded word – and the look of dazed affection Neal gave him upon hearing it only added to the significance.

“So what is it?” 

“It’s a new synthetic drug known on the streets as X-Lite. Essentially, it’s a blend of MDMA and _Cannabis indica_. Users get the euphoria, tactile sensitivity, and sensuality that comes with the MDMA, but with the mellowness from the CBD-rich strain of cannabis. CBD is –”

“Cannabidiol,” Peter supplied. “I know what it is, doctor. So how much does Neal have in his system, and what is it going to do to him?”

Now the doctor raised his eyebrows – Peter didn’t want to think about why – and held up a reassuring hand. “From what we can tell, he was dosed with enough of it that he’ll be feeling the effects for several hours, but not enough to classify it as an overdose.” 

Peter opened his mouth to ask about the effects, but the words stuck in his throat when Neal’s fingers wove their way through his and squeezed. Peter was able to slip his hand away and jam it into his pocket, but not before the doctor noticed.

“So, uh, what’s going to happen to him? Just what we’re seeing now?”

“Well, MDMA causes the release of serotonin in the brain. As you may know, serotonin regulates mood, sleep, sexual activity, and such. The primary effects of the MDMA are euphoria and increased sensitivity to touch, especially sensual or sexual in nature. The CBD mellows out the psychedelia and tends to counteract any anxiety or paranoia that may occur in some patients who take high doses of MDMA.

“Mr. Caffrey will need to be closely monitored for the next several hours, preferably by someone who has a basic knowledge of first aid and can watch for signs of a severe reaction.” He fixed Peter with a hard stare. “I’d also recommend that it be someone who knows him intimately. He’ll be very tactile and affectionate. It’ll make things more comfortable for him if he’s with someone who is able to, ah, help him deal with those symptoms.” _Oh._

Peter again felt the flush rising up his neck and was sure it was visible on his cheeks, but he ignored it and nodded, trying to remain professional. “Of course. That can be arranged.”

“Good. Now as I said, the high will likely last for several hours. You may see a few adverse effects as he’s coming down. The most common ones we’ve seen with X-Lite are chills and fever. Make sure he gets plenty of water and rest, give him something for the fever if he gets one, keep him comfortable, and monitor his temperature. If it goes above 104 degrees, bring him back in here.” The doctor raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Peter frowned.

“That’s it?” Peter jumped when Neal’s fingers brushed over his pocket, searching for his hand. He stepped out of the way before they could get too close to his groin, and the blush spread down his chest.

“That’s it. Any additional information you may need will be provided with Mr. Caffrey’s discharge instructions.” The doctor was again eyeing him in a way that told Peter he knew exactly who would be spending the next several hours with Neal, though he was still trying to keep a professional demeanor. It would’ve been impressive if it hadn’t made Peter so self-conscious. “Really, Agent Burke, it’s a fairly high dose of a recreational drug, but Mr. Caffrey is showing no signs of a severe allergic reaction. The only thing he can do at this point is ride it out, and he’d be more comfortable in familiar surroundings.” He cleared his throat and glanced at Neal. “Where his needs can be met.”

“Yeah,” Neal said from the bed, the grin now back on his face. “I wanna go home, Peter. With you. Please? Pleeeeease?”

Peter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if the ringing in his ears might drown out Neal’s loose-lipped pleas. _Tactile and affectionate_. This time, when Neal reached for his hand, Peter let him take it, finally opening his eyes and steeling himself enough to meet the doctor’s gaze.

“So it’s safe to, uh…meet whatever needs he might have?”

The doctor gave him a terse nod. “It is. Just watch him for any signs of a severe reaction, and try to make sure he doesn’t overexert himself.”

“Yeah, Peter,” Neal said, practically bouncing as he sat on the bed. “That means no power topping.”

Peter glanced away, focusing on a spot over the doctor’s left shoulder, and wondered if an actual case of spontaneous human combustion had ever been documented. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been so mortified – except maybe right after what Neal had said to the nurse earlier – and his entire body had pushed well into uncomfortably numb territory.

The doctor, sympathetic to Peter’s obvious distress, made his way toward the curtain. “We’ll have his discharge paperwork ready to go in a few minutes.”

Peter nodded, barely even registering it when Neal started sucking surreptitiously on his index finger. It was going to be a long evening.

\-------------

“Neal.”

*click*

“And now it’s spreadin’ all over the land, I still can’t seem to understand, papa oooooh, papa papa papa oooooh…” _Falsetto, even._

*click*

“Dooon’t want to get caught up in any’o’that funky shit goin’ down in the city. Big ol’ jet airliner, don’t carry me too far away…”

*click*

“Neal.”

“Didn’t think to ask her why she blocked her eyes and drew the curtains, with knots I’ve got yet to untie. What if I were Romeo in black jeans…”

_How in the hell does he know every song on every station?_ Peter sighed and tried to concentrate on the traffic.

*click*

“…you can’t hurt me, _suck my kiss_. Kiss me, please pervert me, stick with this. Is she talking dirty?”

“Neal.”

“Give to me sweet sacred bliss, your mouth was made to suck my kiss.” When Peter glanced over, the smoldering look Neal was giving him settled low and warm in his belly.

*click*

“…your friend, and I don’t wanna start over again. I just want my life to be the same, just like it used to be. Some days, I hate everything, I hate ev–”

“ – Neal. Please.” Neal’s hand was resting on top of the knob on the center console that controlled the media player, and Peter laid his own hand on top of Neal’s, pressing down to mute the radio.

“What?” Neal’s voice was still sing-songy, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t you like my singing, Peter?”

“I – of course I do, but –” The words caught in his throat as Neal licked his index finger from palm to tip, then sucked it into his mouth. “Oh.” He didn’t know whether to be angry or turned on. “Neal, ah, why don’t –” Neal was now fellating his finger in earnest, and against the wishes of his brain, the appropriate reaction was starting to take place just south of his belt buckle. Of course, Neal noticed, and he let go of Peter’s hand, deciding instead that stroking the inside of Peter’s thigh might hurry things along.

“Can I road dome you?”

Peter nearly rear-ended the car in front of him. Knowing that the drugs were affecting Neal now even more than they were in the hospital, he took a few calming breaths and tried to keep his voice even and patient.

“No. Why don’t we save the good stuff for when we get home?”

Neal sighed and leaned his head against the window. “I wish they would’ve given you some of this, too. Such a buzzkill.”

“You won’t be saying that when you’re coming down.”

Neal looked up at the convertible top. “Down? From where?”

“Nevermind. Look, why don’t you...mmm.” The tips of Neal’s fingers brushed over Peter’s growing erection, and Peter shivered. “Not until we get home.” He moved Neal’s hand back over to his own knee. “Why don’t you sing me something that’s not on the radio? Something you really like.”

When Peter glanced over, Neal was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes and one of the most open smiles he’d ever seen. “Seriously?”

“Please.”

He could almost hear the gears in Neal’s brain turning as he tried to concentrate hard enough to come up with a song. Finally, he cleared his throat and started to sing.

And it was one of the most beautiful things Peter had ever heard.

“Give me a kiss to build a dream on, and my imagination will thrive upon that kiss. Sweetheart, I ask no more than this, a kiss to build a dream on…”

In spite of the subject matter, there wasn’t a salacious tone to Neal’s voice, and it was obvious he truly loved the song. As he sang, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and swayed in time to the melody in his head. Though Peter wished he could do exactly the same thing, he settled for keeping his eyes on the road and getting lost in Neal’s soothing tenor.

\-------------

“But it doesn’t feel right, El.”

That’s what Peter’s mind was telling him anyway. His body was telling him that not only did it feel right, but it felt damn good, and he only just managed to stifle most of a moan.

He glanced down at Neal, who was laying on top of him, completely naked. The younger man was giving Peter’s left nipple the royal treatment, licking and sucking at it while his fingertips traced lazy circles over Peter’s pecs. Peter, too, had been divested of his clothes by Neal as soon as they’d gotten to the bedroom. He’d put up a half-hearted protest, but Neal’s roving hands in the car had already gotten Peter warmed up, and seeing Neal’s beautiful body naturally had the usual effect.

“I don’t know, hon. It sounds to me like it’s feeling pretty good right about now.”

“Just – ah – autonomic response…” He fumbled the phone when Neal gave his nipple a gentle bite before moving on to the other one, his fingers now stroking the hollow of Peter’s neck.

“Uh-huh.” El definitely wasn’t buying it. “But the doctor said it was safe and that he’d need it. So technically, you’re just following medical advice, right?” There was a smile in her voice, but Peter just frowned, wishing El could see Neal for herself.

“I’m trying, but it’s not like being with the Neal we know. He’s drugged. It would be too much like –” A word, small but horrible, flashed through his mind, and he almost choked on the attempt to swallow it before it came out.

“I’m still me,” Neal said, lifting his head and leaning toward the phone. “Elizabeth, please tell him I’m still me. I’m just reeeeeally happy and reeeeeally horny.” He started kissing his way slowly down over Peter’s chest and abdomen.

“Oh, wow. I wish I was there to see this,” El said with a giggle, not knowing she was echoing Peter’s earlier thought. “You heard him, Peter. He’s aware of what’s going on.”

“I know, I know. But I feel like aaaahhhhh – mmm.” Peter panted through the sensation of Neal’s tongue circling the head of his cock, which was now painfully hard and taut against his belly. Whether his brain wanted to admit it or not, there was also a small part of him that was immensely turned on by the fact that Neal was preparing to suck him off while El was listening on the phone. “Like I’m taking…advantage…of him.”

“Sounds kind of like _he’s_ taking advantage of _you_.”

Neal pulled off, his mouth still hovering over Peter’s erection. “You’re not taking advantage of me. You love me, right? You’re just looking out for me like you always do. Meeting my needs, like the doctor said. And I neeeeeeeed you. I need you to touch me. Please.”

Peter’s mind went a little fuzzy upon hearing Neal’s declaration. Without really thinking about it, he moved his free hand, which had been twisted in the sheet, into Neal’s hair, scraping his nails lightly over Neal’s scalp. Neal dropped his forehead to Peter’s stomach and let out a long, low moan.

“I like the sound of that. What are you doing to him?”

“Just touching him,” Peter replied. “Fingers in his hair.” He was starting to relax and accept what was going on, and El’s encouragement was definitely helping. So was Neal’s reaction.

“Oh…oh, Peter.” He exhaled the words, his mind lost to Peter’s fingertips. “Don’tstoppleasejustkeepdoingthat. Mmmmmmm.”

“Do you need your other hand? Maybe I should let you go.”

“El…”

“Honey, look at him and tell me what you see.”

Peter looked down his body at his lover. “I see Neal, uh, with his head on my stomach. He’s pretty turned on, and…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing where she was going even before she said it.

“Good, now keep the first three words and get rid of everything else. You see Neal. He’s there, he’s not so out of it that he doesn’t know what’s happening. You’re not doing anything against his will.” She paused for a moment to talk to someone in the background. “Oh, I have to go. They need me back inside. I love you and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Love you, too.”

“Is she hanging up?” Neal asked, lifting his head and butting it into Peter’s hand, his breath hot on Peter’s erection. “Bye, Elizabeth! Elizabeeeeeth…looooove was very new, make believe was coming true, Elizabeeeeth.” Without warning, he stopped singing and started licking Peter’s cock again, making the older man gasp.

“Wow,” El said with a laugh, “I like his version better than Sinatra’s.” She took a deep breath, and when she continued, her voice was a near-whisper, her tone serious. “Peter, do what you think is right. If you’re really not comfortable with this, see if you can figure out another way to help him. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” And then she was gone, leaving Peter to fend for himself.

As much as his body was enjoying the whole thing, his mind couldn’t get past the fact that Neal was drugged. Though Neal seemed to be very aware of what was going on – and capable of making his own decisions – Peter worried about how he’d feel when he came out the other side.

He wondered if Neal would resent him for doing sexual things with him while he wasn’t completely in control. He worried that Neal might remember parts of it but not all of it, or that he might feel like Peter had abused his authority, despite the fact that Neal had been free of the anklet for nearly two years. He wondered how much longer he’d be able to hold out with Neal sucking him like that.

“Neal, stop.” With both hands now free, Peter threaded his fingers back through Neal’s hair and lifted gently.

“Ugh, nooooooo.” It was probably as close to a whine as Peter had ever heard Neal get. He slid up Peter’s body until their noses were only inches apart, then gave Peter an unexpected kiss on the tip of his nose. “You think too much.”

Peter closed his eyes and sighed, his hands moving down to drift lazily over Neal’s back. “I’m sorry, but – no, I’m not. Neal, I know you think you’re still yourself, and you are, but…” He trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure he completely understood his own reservations, but they were there, and they were too strong to ignore. “I, um. I just can’t, Neal.”

“Peter?” Neal slid off to lay beside him, curling up against his side and laying his head on Peter’s shoulder. He trailed his fingers gently over Peter’s chest, thankfully going no further than the bottom of his breastbone.

“You aren’t in control of yourself,” Peter blurted, finally opening his eyes, looking down just as Neal shifted back and looked up at him. “I know you think you are, and you seem to be, but I can’t take that chance that you won’t be able to remember everything after you come down. That you’ll regret not being…you.”

Neal seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged and pushed himself up, his fingers still gliding over Peter’s chest.

“I guess that makes sense,” he admitted with a slack half-grin. “Sooooo…what if we don’t have sex? I don’t even know if I want that anyway. This –” He gestured at their bodies, pressed up against each other, before going back to circling his index finger around one of Peter’s nipples. “– is heavenly. Just touch me. Let me touch you. It feels…indescribable. Everything _feels_.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he sat up, hauling Neal with him. “Really?” He was floored that Neal was letting him off the hook so easily. It didn’t matter if it was due to his reasoning with the younger man or the increased empathy from the drugs; the relief flooded through Peter with such force that he actually panted from it.

“Yep.” Neal gave him a sly grin, looking a little like mischief incarnate. “You’re okay with touching?”

“I can do touching.” Peter ran his fingertips lightly from Neal’s shoulder down his back, and when they moved over the curve of Neal’s ass, the younger man shivered – not cold. Hot. The rumble that started way down low in Neal’s chest reverberated through Peter’s body, settling deep in his groin, bringing back the arousal, rock-hard before the sound even stopped.

As minutes morphed into hours, they found myriad ways to touch each other, exploring and discovering, desire coursing through them like a life force.

At one point, Peter found a new erogenous zone on Neal’s lithe body, the location both surprising and not. Oddly enough, it was the inside of his right ankle, back near his Achilles tendon. When Peter clamped a hand around Neal’s left ankle, the familiar weight seeming to ground his lover as he nipped and licked at the right one, Neal writhed in near-delirium. His climax, swift and earth-shattering, dragged such primal noises from deep within him that Peter almost worried about the neighbors. Almost.

Neal eventually returned the favor, discovering a spot on Peter’s right side near the bottom of his ribcage that, when licked and kissed, made shockingly wanton noises bubble up in the back of the older man’s throat. Neal worshipped that spot, one hand holding Peter in place, the other stroking his erection, driving him to the brink, only to stop and shift up to kiss away his choked profanities. When Neal finally sent him over the edge, the release was so intense, so all-encompassing that Peter lost time, his world fuzzy white around the edges. He wanted to sleep, wanted to curl up beside Neal and forget that anything existed outside of the two of them.

But Neal was still drugged, still affectionate, still more libidinous than Peter would’ve ever thought possible. So the older man pulled himself together and begged off long enough to clean himself up, refill Neal’s glass of water, and collect a bottle of El’s favorite flavored massage oil from the dresser before returning to the bed. 

Neal was happy to just lay with him for a while, occasionally moving to lap the drying sweat from Peter’s neck, his chest, the insides of his thighs. And damn, but it felt amazing. As much as he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it, Peter was enjoying his time with this version of Neal. The younger man had always been a sensual and attentive lover, but without the usual social masks and filters in place, Neal was completely uninhibited – and sexier than ever. And despite being firmly embedded in his early fifties, it was making Peter as randy as a teenager.

When Neal coaxed him back into another round, Peter was ready, pulling as much vicarious energy as he could from the younger man. Neal’s fingers drifted over Peter’s eyelids, closing them, and his other senses started compensating right away. His lover overwhelmed him, everywhere at once, steadily thrusting against him, fingers drifting over his biceps, teeth tugging at his lower lip. Moaning – his, Neal’s – sang in Peter’s ears. Hot breath tickled the tiny hairs high on his cheek.

“Look at you. God, you’re beautiful, Peter.” The whisper made Peter shiver, and his fingers dug into Neal’s shoulders. A long, helpless groan pushed its way up through his lips. The glide of slick skin, hard and familiar, was overwhelming. “You make me whole.”

His lover’s words, and the sensations that came along with them, were too much for Peter to handle. The wave of pleasure overtook him, and he arched against Neal, hips jerking and breath stuttering, gasping the younger man’s name. He’d barely finished when Neal found his own release, body going rigid, warmth spilling over on Peter’s belly. Time became nothing, and this time Neal let him doze, cleaning them up before rolling Peter over and kneading his well-ridden muscles. 

Eventually, somehow – he had no idea how – Peter managed to summon the energy to help Neal get the last of the cravings out of his system. He made liberal use of the flavored oil, palming it into Neal’s flawless skin, enveloping them in a cloud of orange and vanilla. His tongue followed his hands, tracing meandering paths over Neal’s trembling form.

It was the scrape of Peter’s late-day beard high on the inside of Neal’s thigh that finally did it. An arch of his back, one ragged breath after another, tears chasing each other down into his hair. Neal’s whole body shook, but the smile on his face was one Peter could only think of as beatific.

When it was over, Peter pulled his wrecked lover into his arms and held him, spent long minutes gentling him down. The exhaustion quickly overtook Neal; he could barely help as Peter got him cleaned up and settled under the covers. He’d stayed basically silent until then, trying to catch his breath, but he finally managed a sleepy chuckle when Peter slid in next to him.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

Peter brushed his lips across Neal’s temple. “Hmm? Can’t what?”

“Can’t feel. Anything anymore. That was…oh, god, that was unreal.”

Peter tried to smile, but it morphed into a near-painful yawn. “Shh. Try to get some sleep.”

“Mmm.” Neal shifted so his mouth was next to Peter’s ear. “The very thought of you, and I forget to do…the little ordinary things that everyone…ought to…do…” The mumbled lyrics trailed off into a contented hum, then snuffled into silence.

This time, the smile worked, and Peter closed his eyes, following Neal into what he hoped would be a peaceful slumber.

\-------------

Peter awoke to a dark bedroom and the distinct thump-click of the front door closing and locking, signaling El’s arrival downstairs. A wave of relief washed over him, knowing for sure that the two people he loved most in the world were safe. As his senses returned, though, he realized that something definitely wasn’t right.

He was pressed against Neal, a protective arm slung the younger man’s shoulder, and both of them were covered in sweat. Peter was the one who usually put out an ungodly amount of body heat, but now it was radiating off of Neal in waves. Neal was trembling, teeth chattering, and realization hit Peter hard. The side effects.

Peter sat up quickly, turning on the bedside lamp. He pushed the sheet down and ran a hand up under Neal’s sweat-soaked bangs. Though he wasn’t surprised by the fever, its intensity shook him. He scrambled for the thermometer in the collection of items he’d put on the nightstand when they got home, shaking Neal with his other hand.

“Neal. Wake up.” The only response was harder shivering, and a stab of panic hit Peter square in the chest. “Hey, Neal. C’mon, you need to wake up.”

“Mmmnh.” Finally, Neal stirred under his hand, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Aah.” One eye cracked open, then the other, and he squinted against the light.

“Can you sit up for a minute? I need to take your temperature and give you something for your fever.”

Neal grumbled and pulled the sheet tight around himself. “Cold.”

“I know you are. Let me take your temperature and get some ibuprofen in you, and we’ll get you warmed up, okay?” When Neal squeezed his eyes shut, Peter leaned over next to his ear. “Neal, please. I promise, I’ll get you through this.”

With a frustrated grunt, Neal opened his eyes and struggled to push himself up against the headboard, dragging the sheet with him. Even with his teeth chattering badly, he managed to hold the thermometer between them long enough for his temperature to register.

“102.8,” Peter said, forcing the worry out of his voice and the panic from his heart. “This stuff isn’t messing around, is it?” He switched the thermometer for a couple of ibuprofen and one of the bottles of water he’d left on the nightstand. “You feel sick to your stomach at all?”

“No. Just f-freezing.” As if to emphasize his point, a deep shudder ran through Neal and he groaned.

“This will help,” Peter said, giving him the pills, then helping hold the bottle steady as Neal washed them down and drained more than half of the water.

“Peter?” Elizabeth’s voice drifted up the stairs, and he could hear her footsteps approaching.

“Stay here,” Peter said softly. “I’m going to get you something to wear, and then I think we’re going to move to somewhere a little less…damp. I’ll get you warmed up soon.”

When Neal nodded and closed his eyes, Peter slipped out of bed and met El at the doorway.

“Wow,” she said, eyeing his still-naked body appreciatively. “I like this kind of welcome.” Her voice faltered on the last word, and she glanced over at Neal before her eyes returned to search Peter’s face. “Peter, what’s wrong?”

“The after effects are hitting him – fever, chills. He’s probably a little dehydrated. Sheets are pretty soaked, and he’s freezing. Is it alright if…” He nodded in the direction of the guest room.

“Of course.” Concern furrowed her brow as she leaned up to give him a quick kiss. “You get him over there and get him warmed up. I’ll change the sheets in here and take care of things downstairs.”

Peter’s heart clenched, gratitude washing over him. “I – thanks, hon. I love you.”

“Mmm,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “Love you, too.” This time, they let their kiss deepen, and El tucked herself against him in a move that would’ve been a nice prelude to something more if he’d had the energy – and if Neal’s teeth hadn’t been chattering so loudly from the bed behind them. “Go. Take care of him. I’ll be fine on my own tonight.” She gave him a fond smile, and he returned it before making a quick trip to the closet. He grabbed his sleeping bag and the fluffy robe he’d taken to wearing when it was cold or he was sick, as well as retrieving their discarded underwear from the floor.

He took everything to the guest room, turned down the covers, and quickly unzipped the sleeping bag, then slipped into his boxers and got a damp washcloth from the bathroom. When he returned, Neal was still sitting up, eyes half-closed, and he’d just finished the last of the water.

“You hanging in there?” Peter asked as he wiped the sweat from Neal’s body.

“C-cold. Thirsty. Can’t stop…sh-shaking. Hate this.”

“I know you do. Let’s get you over to the other room and get you warmed up.” Peter draped one of Neal’s arms across his shoulders for support, but even though he was still exhausted, Neal was able to walk to the guest room mostly under his own power. After getting him into his boxer briefs and sitting him on the edge of the bed, Peter quickly collected the supplies from the master bedroom, then returned to find Neal dozing with his chin on his chest. He pulled one of his old sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants out of the spare dresser, then took them over and gently shook Neal awake. “Let’s get you into these, get you warm.”

This apparently sounded like an excellent idea to Neal, who helped as much as his shaking limbs would allow. Peter then wrapped him in the robe before finding an old t-shirt for himself in the dresser. He got the pillows situated against the headboard, then draped the sleeping bag over them and climbed into bed.

“Okay, Neal, come on.” Peter sat up against the pillows and spread his legs before helping Neal slide back between them. He stretched around the younger man to grab the sheet and comforter, pulling both up over their legs and stomachs before bundling the unzipped sleeping bag around them. “There, how’s that?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Neal and nuzzling his neck from behind.

“Mmm. Warm.” Neal wriggled against him and let out a shaky sigh. “Stay like this. F-forever.”

“It is pretty cozy,” Peter admitted, finally allowing himself to relax and smile a little. “Get some more sleep if you can. You should be feeling better soon. If you start feeling worse and I’m asleep, make sure to wake me.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Neal’s shivering was starting to subside, though he was still sweating and his cheek was way too warm against Peter’s. The sleepy whisper was so low Peter almost didn’t catch it. “Love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too.” He ran his hands up and down Neal’s arms. “Comfortable?”

“’s perfect.” In spite of the fever and chills, Peter thought he heard a hint of playfulness in Neal’s tone. “Favorite place…to b-be. In your arms. Between y-your legs.”

Peter snorted and shook his head, though laying with Neal in this particular position – Neal’s back to his chest – was a definite guilty pleasure for him as well. “Incorrigible. Go back to sleep.”

Neal huffed out a laugh but snuggled in against Peter and got settled. Peter closed his eyes, waiting until he was sure Neal was asleep before letting himself drift. He was vaguely aware of El checking on them soon after, and he gave her a mumbled acknowledgement, but he was too tired – and worried about waking Neal – to do much more than that.

\-------------

Late the next morning, Peter was sitting out on the deck, working on his second cup of coffee. Neal walked out and sat down beside him, putting his orange juice on the table and turning his face up to the sun. Peter knew the younger man wanted to talk to him about what had happened, but he was content to sit in silence and wait for Neal to open the conversation.

The drug had worked its way through Neal’s system overnight, and his fever had finally broken in the pre-dawn hours. He’d gotten up at one point to use the bathroom and stripped back down to his underwear, no longer needing the layers, before going back to sleep for a few more hours.

They’d eventually dragged themselves out of bed and into the shower. The shivering had left Neal tense and aching, and Peter took the time to give him a gentle massage as the warm water washed away the sweat and made them whole again. And when Neal leaned into Peter, tucking his face into the older man’s neck and huffing out a few shaky breaths, Peter simply held him, silent reassurance. Love. 

They’d let El sleep in, and Peter made eggs, bacon, and toast for the two of them. He’d been secretly pleased when Neal tucked into the eggs with gusto, ignoring the fact that a full mouth conveniently meant Neal didn’t have to engage in small talk. As if to prove Peter’s point, Neal even indulged in a few slices of bacon, something he rarely did.

With the kitchen cleaned up and the rest of the food on a plate for El, Peter had wrapped an arm around Neal’s waist and planted a chaste kiss on his temple, an unspoken invitation, before taking his coffee out to the deck. Neal’s appearance a minute later hadn’t been surprising, but Peter was still relieved to see the other man.

“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful weekend,” Neal finally commented. Talking about the weather was always an innocuous way to start.

“Supposed to be.” Peter stared into his coffee, his thumb skating absently over the rim of the mug.

“Yeah.” Neal sipped at his juice, and the silence stretched between them again, taut and thrumming with nervous energy. Peter tried to project unwavering support, but at the same time, he wanted to give Neal the distance he needed to sort through his emotions. “Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Peter.”

Peter put down the mug and shifted to look at Neal; what he saw made him reach over and take the other man’s hand. Neal looked markedly unsettled, his face a little washed-out, eyes pleading with Peter to listen, to be there, to help him make sense of the muddled memories.

“Would you, uh, go with me to the hospital later?” When Peter’s eyes widened, Neal held up his free hand and attempted a smile that ended up going crooked. “I think I need to make a few apologies.”

“Of course, I can do that. They knew you weren’t yourself, though. They’ve probably heard a lot worse.” A flash of humiliation crossed Neal’s face before being schooled away, and Peter wanted to kick himself. “How much do you remember?”

Neal’s fingers tightened around his. “I’m not sure. I remember a lot, but I don’t know how much is real, and everything feels like it’s not in the right order.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is why I don’t do drugs. I know what wine will do to me.” This time, the smile worked, but Peter found that he couldn’t muster one of his own. With that statement, Neal was already flirting with the reason Peter couldn’t bring himself to make love to the man the day before. “I owe you several apologies, too, I think.”

“No, of course not. I –”

“Peter, I’m sorry. I know I was drugged – by a suspect, no less – but that doesn’t change the fact that I said and did things in the hospital that embarrassed you, and it feels wrong not to apologize.”

Though the apology was unnecessary, Peter understood why Neal needed to say it, and he nodded. “Sure, uh, thanks, Neal.” He ran his thumb over Neal’s, and Neal seemed to be satisfied.

“I need to thank you, too. You put up with me and took care of me, and you didn’t…” He trailed off and looked down at their hands. 

“Neal –”

“Peter, _thank you_.” Neal looked back up, blue eyes shining as they locked on Peter’s. “What you did for me yesterday, and – and what you didn’t do…” He ran a finger over his lips and shook his head.

“I couldn’t. The touching, whether it got us off or not, was one thing –”

“And I needed that.”

“And you needed that.” Peter took a deep breath and dove in. “You weren’t in control, though, and I couldn’t do that to you. If there was even the slightest chance that you wouldn’t remember what happened, then it would’ve been wrong to…you know, have sex with you. It would’ve felt like…” He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze.

“Rape.”

That single word – the one he couldn’t bring himself to say to El on the phone – emerging from his lover’s lips, turned Peter’s stomach. He stood quickly, needing to put some distance between them, and paced to the edge of the deck. And Neal let him have that distance, but only for a moment. Peter heard him approach from behind and stiffened, holding his breath.

“Peter.” Neal’s arm slipped around his waist. “I know you, and I know that you’d never hurt me. I – I wouldn’t have looked at it… _that_ way.”

“But _I_ would have.” 

Neal turned to face him, waiting patiently until Peter’s eyes struggled up to meet his. “I know you would have. That’s one of the biggest reasons I’ve always trusted you, even in the beginning. You’re a good man, Peter, and I know I can count on you to protect me.” He rolled his eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Whether I realize I need it or not. And I don’t think I did yesterday.”

The words broke through Peter’s apprehension, and he let himself relax, a ghost of a smile starting to play on his lips. “All the more reason to draw the line where I did.”

“Yeah.” Neal rested a palm on Peter’s chest. “And knowing that I can count on you to draw those lines, knowing I can trust you to be my safe place, means more to me than you’ll probably ever know.” 

Before Peter had a chance to become too emotional, Neal pulled him into a gentle kiss, then held him, fingers drifting over the back of Peter’s t-shirt. They stayed that way for countless minutes, love and gratitude and trust bathing them in more warmth than the late morning sunshine.

“Hey,” Neal said, chin resting on Peter’s shoulder, “do you remember the first time you saw me drugged?”

Peter reached up to thumb the moisture from the corners of his eyes, hoping that if he pretended it wasn’t there, Neal would pretend he didn’t notice. He had to clear his throat before answering. “The Howser Clinic? Yeah, I was thinking about that in the hospital.”

Neal pulled back far enough to look at him, eyes searching his face, and Peter had a feeling Neal knew exactly which part he’d remembered. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and full of adoration. “You kept me safe then, too.” 

And he had. He’d found Neal, had gotten him out safely, had even stolen the surveillance tapes so Neal wouldn’t go back to prison. Peter shifted, not used to such a display of gratitude from the younger man, even now that they were in a relationship.

“You sang then, too,” he deflected.

Neal shrugged and grinned at him, recognizing and allowing the redirection because he’d mastered it himself decades ago. “So I sing when I’m kited. Could be worse.”

“It _was_ worse.”

Neal thought for a moment, sifting through his fragmented memories, and Peter could tell exactly when it hit him. “Oh, god, that was real? I thought I just had to apologize for telling her I couldn’t flirt with her while my sexy lover was standing there.”

“That was the first time she came in. When she came back in later, you told her that I was…”

“Equipped?”

“Something like that, but with an equine reference.”

“Shit,” Neal breathed, butting his head into Peter’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Peter lifted Neal’s chin. “I’ve gotten over it, and…it’s not exactly something I should be ashamed of anyway.” When he smirked, Neal answered with one of his own, his fingertips drifting down Peter’s chest before coming to rest low on his stomach.

“Oh, definitely not. I can understand why you wouldn’t want it to be broadcast to random strangers, though.”

“Well, some of the other things you said made up for it. The singing helped, too.” He leaned in to kiss Neal, lips parting just enough to let their tongues flirt with each other. “And what came after the singing was just mind-blowing.”

“Well, I had to blow your mind,” Neal murmured against his lips. “You wouldn’t let me blow anything else.”

Peter let out a throaty chuckle. “Look, all I’m saying is that I hope we can do some of those things more often…just without the drugs.”

“I think that can be arranged.” His arms moved to encircle Peter’s waist, and Peter’s wrapped around his shoulders. They held on to each other, content to simply exist in each other’s arms, until Neal eventually started swaying, forcing Peter to move with him.

“Mmm,” Peter whispered next to his ear. “Are we dancing now?”

Neal nodded, his clean-shaven cheek brushing over Peter’s own, and then began to sing softly enough that only Peter could hear him.

“In the still…of the night, I held you, held you tight…”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a YouTube playlist of all of the songs Neal sings in this fic, in order of appearance: [The Face That You Have to Face playlist](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeieoMYoFjNlU_Yhyonoiu4xijluanSyn).
> 
> The songs Neal sings in the car are, in order: "Papa Oom Mow Mow" by The Rivingtons, "Jet Airliner" by Steve Miller Band, "No Myth" by Michael Penn, "Suck My Kiss" by Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Wonderful" by Everclear, and "A Kiss to Build a Dream On" by Louis Armstrong.
> 
> When Peter is on the phone with El, the song Neal sings is "Elizabeth" by Frank Sinatra. Later, as he's drifting off to sleep, Neal sings "The Very Thought of You" by Nat King Cole to Peter. The song he sings as they're dancing on the deck the next day is "In the Still of the Night" by The Five Satins.


End file.
